


Beating Heart

by WittyPiglet



Series: Drarry at Hogwarts [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Meetings, Hogwarts First Year
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-09-18 12:10:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16994760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WittyPiglet/pseuds/WittyPiglet
Summary: (Formerly Drarry|First Year) Every event that changed Draco's brainwashed mind started that day in Madame Malkin's on Diagon Alley. The day his heart began to beat.





	1. On Diagon Alley

Malfoy. A name known throughout every reach of the Wizarding World. It was a name that demanded respect...and fear. No one dared oppose the Malfoy patriarch, Lucius, for fear of something happening to them or their families. Even the Ministry of Magic bended when it came to Lucius Malfoy. Lucius, with his beautiful wife Narcissa, conceived a single child and heir to the Malfoy name and fortune.

Draco Malfoy.

He resembled his father with his silver blonde hair and pointy features, but everything else about him was his mother. From his slender and delicate frame to his pale, fair skin to slightly grayer eyes. Even with his strong resemblance to his mother, he was always referred to looking more like his father. Even as an 11 year-old boy he had his mother's beauty. He was leered at from behind his back by older, perverted men much to his parents' rage. These men soon regretted their actions though. Draco was an oblivious boy when it came to his feminine beauty and never noticed the looks he received more the glares his parents sported at whomever dared to look at their son with such interest.

Even in Diagon Alley, filled with dozens of wizards who knew who the Malfoys were, still stared and gawked at the stunning Narcissa Malfoy and her beautiful young son, albeit more discreetly.

"Draco darling."

"Yes mother?" The young boy looked up at his mother with such wide, innocent and beautiful eyes. They stopped outside of Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

"While you get fitted for your school robes, I shall go and look at the wands Ollivander's has on display, when you are done come meet me. Alright dear?"

"Yes mother."

"Good." His mother handed him a money pouch and turned on her heel and people stepped aside to let the beautiful woman through as they have done all day. Draco watched her go for a moment before entering the well-furnished shop. A squat, humble looking witch dressed from head to toe in mauve scurried over to him the second his foot crossed the threshold.

"Hogwarts, darling?" she said and, with a wave of her wand a measuring tape started to take his measurements and a floating piece of parchment and quill wrote them down.

"Yes ma'am." Draco spoke, ever the one for manners. His mother would tan his hide if he was rude to Madame Malkin. She produced all his mother's robes after all.

"Let's get you fitted then," another wave of her wand and the measuring tape disappeared. "Right this way then deary." Draco followed the woman towards the fitting area in the back of the shop and, upon her request, stood on one of the many footstools and held his arms out. "Guinevere!" Another, drastically younger, witch emerge from a backroom carrying stacks of cloth.

"Yes Madame?" Her voice was breathy as she set the cloth on the counter.

"Will you help this young lady get fitted for her school robes?"

Lady?!

Draco made an oddly choking sound and coughed a few times to clear his throat.

"A-Ah, Madame? I'm...I'm not a girl." A blush starting from his neck traveled up to the points of his ears.

"Hmm? O-Oh! Terribly sorry!"

Madame Malkin had a blush to match Draco's as she hurried to help a newer customer. Guinevere, giggling like a school girl, began her job of fitting Draco's robes. Draco couldn't find himself being angered by Madame Malkin's small mistake on his gender. It happened quiet a bit whenever he met someone new. He was quite used to it by now, but that didn't mean he was humiliated at being called a girl.

The Madame soon returned with another boy in tow. The first thing Draco noticed about the boy was his messy raven hair and shockingly green eyes. The squat witch got the newcomer set up next to the young Malfoy, slipped a long robe over his head and began pinning his black robes to the right length. Draco willed his blush away and looked over at the boy.

"Hello," he said politely, curiously in fact. "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," the boy replied shortly. Draco frowned and tried to continue the conversation.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," Draco hummed as he spoke in drawling voice with a bored undertone. "Then, I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own." He scoffed at the idea. "I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow." Draco wouldn't really. He didn't want to humiliate his parents by breaking school rules and getting caught. But he was speaking in his defense mechanism. Haughty and arrogant. Perfect Draco Malfoy.

The raven seemed to only be half-heartedly listening so Draco changed the subject to him.

"Have you got your own broom?"

"No," another short answer was all he received.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Draco frowned at the repeatedly short answers he was receiving. The boy had a barely concealed look of confusion on his face. Ah, he must be muggle-born or a half-blood or something. Draco personally had nothing against non-purebloods, but his parents words of blood supremacy were spoken almost daily towards him.

"I do - Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No." Right, if he was muggle-born or even half-blood he probably doesn't know about houses. Draco inwardly chastised himself for his forgetfulness.

Draco tries to salvage the one-sided conversation.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been - imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," the boy nodded with a hum. Draco's face fell slightly. It wasn't like the boy could see, he refused to look at him. He sighed, about to give up talking to the darker-haired boy, when he saw the largest, most rugged man he ever laid eyes on. This man was the complete opposite of his father, that's for sure.

"I say, look at that man!" Draco spoke up suddenly, tossing a nod towards the front window where the large man was standing, grinning and pointing enthusiastically at two large ice creams.

"That's Hagrid," the boy sounded pleased and quirked a small, barely there smile. "He works at Hogwarts." Ah, that makes sense. Now that Draco thought about it, this Hagrid looked rather familiar. His father mentioned him on occasion when discussing Hogwarts. Never in a nice manner.

"Oh," said Draco, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," back to the short answers. He was liking the boy less and less every second.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage - lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed." Draco snickered and Guinevere poked him purposely with a pin when he shook to much.

"I think he's brilliant," he sounded cold and Draco looked away, trying to seem like he was looking at the different colored fabric hanging on the walls. He had upset the boy. He didn't want that. He really didn't.

"Do you?" Draco gave a slight sneer, his arrogant "better than you" mask back in place. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," it was a short, dull answer. As if he was discussing the weather. Draco just knew that meant he didn't want to breech the subject.

"Oh, sorry," said the grey-eyed boy. He tried to keep his voice as blank and plain as possible, even as his heart ached for the boy and his loss. "But," he hesitated and his father's words ring in his ears. "They...They were our kind, weren't they?" He could have kicked himself for that.

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean. "

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you?" What are you doing? This is a horrible way to get to know someone. Shut up, Draco. "They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways." Stop talking. "Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?" Draco's mouth kept running even as he mentally berated himself. He was such a bloody git.

But Madam Malkin spoke up before the other boy could answer, "That's you done, my dear," and Draco frowned as the boy eagerly hopped down from the footstool without even a glance over his shoulder at him as he was handed his bags and prepared to leave.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," Draco drawled in a last ditch effort. But the boy didn't even acknowledge him as he left.

Draco was in a sour mood the rest of his fitting (this Guinevere was  _so_   _slow_ ) and through his walk to meet up with his mother and father.

His mother gave him a small smile and took the carefully wrapped robes from him, handing them off to Dobby, their house elf, who was already overburdened with bag of school supplies and Draco's new cauldron. Draco felt a stab of sympathy for the poor thing, but he didn't let it show. His parents disapproving looks were horrible to endure, knowing they were disappointed in him at all was horrible.

"Well then," Lucius Malfoy's deep, mellow voice caught his attention. "Let's get you you're wand then, Draco." Draco nodded, his head down. He was never able to look his father in the eyes. He just couldn't. Together, the Malfoy family entered the cluttered shop just as another boy and his mother was leaving. Narcissa gave the woman a superior look and the poor woman kept her head down as they scuttled out of the shop.

"Single mother, humph." Narcissa plastered on a smile as they approached the desk and an old man with a slightly disorganized and crazed look in his eyes slid down from a ladder with ease. Looks like he was pointing back failed wand matches.

"Ah!" He clapped his wrinkled and dotted hands together. He cast an intense look at Draco and the young boy refused to tear his eyes from the moon-like balls in Ollivander's skull. "The Malfoy family! I've been expecting you! Don't worry young Mr. Malfoy. I've never failed to match a wizard to a wand." He gave Draco an teasing, completely innocent, wink that made Draco's mother step the tad bit closer to him.

A tape measure once again began invading Draco's personal space, measuring far more than Madam Malkin's had. With a satisfied smile Ollivander disappeared behind a row of shelves and Draco heard his father give an impatient sigh. The elder man returned with a few wand boxes in hand.

And that's how it began. Draco tried dozens upon dozens, but none seemed to work too well for him. His mother and father slowly growing more and more impatient. And, to Draco's horror, his father had that look on his face. Draco's ears burned with embarrassment as Ollivander handed him a new wand after fixing a bookshelf Draco accidentally broke it.

"Let's see, try this one here. 10 inches, hawthorn wood with unicorn hair core, and reasonably springy."

Draco did and, to his joy, nothing broke as pinkish sparks erupted from the tip. Ollivander's eyes sparkled in triumph as he carefully took the wand back from Draco, placing it back in it's box and packaging it. "Perfect fit I believe, it'll be good for healing spells." He winked at Draco again and Lucius sneered at the thought of his only son becoming a healer. His mother quickly stepped in and paid the 7 galleons before snatching up Draco's wand and hurrying her son out the door.

Draco would have cast a thank you over his shoulder at Ollivander but his father already looked quite irritable.

They spent the next few hours finishing picking up Draco's school supplies. They pass that popular ice cream place, but Draco knew better than to ask for such a sweet.

_"Remember to watch your weight Draco darling."_

A shiver wracked up his spine.

"Are you cold Draco darling?"

"No mother."

"Hm, we need to buy you an owl. No son of mine will have a toad or rat as a pet or even a mangy cat!"

Draco winced at his mother's tone, but nodded all the same.

"Yes mother."


	2. Second Meeting on the Hogwarts Express

Urania was looking at him with that weird concern only owls can show. She's a beautiful eagle owl and Draco loved her. At least his parents didn't pick an owl for him. Draco named her Urania for the Greek muse of astronomy, Urania. His parents hadn't understood why he named her Urania of all things but he wanted them to at least let him have this...

The large eagle owl gave a small hoot towards Draco as he laid on his bed, staring at the intricate designs on his bedroom's ceiling.

"Draco! Hurry up now! We're leaving sweetie!" Draco scrambled from his bed and quickly straightened his clothing just as his mother barged into his room without knocking. "Grab that owl and let's go Draco." Said boy hurriedly grabbed Urania's cage and carefully carried her downstairs. His trunk was already packed the night before, thanks to Dobby. Draco managed to slip the poor thing some extra food as thanks when his father and mother retired for the night.

His father, along with Dobby, were already waiting downstairs. Lucius was tapping his foot impatiently.

* * *

Less than an hour later Draco found himself saying goodbye to his mother and father as he boarded the train to his newfound freedom. Draco found an empty compartment in the back where he began attempting to lift his trunk onto a storage rack.

"Need a hand?" Draco would have jumped in surprise if it wouldn't have ruined his image, he managed to stay still at least and turned to face whomever spoke. There was actually two boys about Draco's age, but quite a bit bigger than him. They both seemed to stop and stare at Draco, slight blushes adorning their cheeks.

"If you wouldn't mind." The two boys squeezed into the compartment and lifted Draco's trunk up and onto the rack together. "Thank you."

"No problem," one of them grunted. "Bet it's hard to lift something that weighs more than yourself." Draco, unable to tell if this was an insult, just crossed his arms and let it go.

The other boy, who hadn't talked yet, spoke up. "I'm Gregory Goyle and this is Vincent Crabbe." He held out his hand and Draco, after a moments hesitance, shook it.

"Draco Malfoy." Their eyes widened in surprise and recognition.

"Ah-Well, it's nice meeting you, Malfoy."

"Likewise Goyle."

* * *

Crabbe and Goyle ended up keeping Draco company in his compartment, though neither of them talked much after their first initial greeting. But it wasn't really an awkward quiet, it was comfortable, relaxing. The trolley witch came buy and Draco, feeling nice, bought Crabbe and Goyle enough sweets to rot their teeth outta their skulls. Draco never touched a piece, even though they constantly held out candy and sweets for him to take.

_"Oh, Draco darling. You can't have sweets like that! Think of all the weight you'll gain!"_

With a soft hum, Draco stood and stretch, unaware that Goyle and Crabbe's eyes locked on him. "I think I'll have a look up and down the train, see if something interesting is going on." Without even acknowledging that he had spoken, both bigger boys stood and followed Draco out of their compartment, flanking him on either side as if they were body guards and he was some precious jewel to protect. Draco never noticed the protective stances or the way they glared at anyone in the hall whose eyes so much as lingered on the Malfoy heir.

A round-faced boy near tears and a girl with rather large front teeth and bushy brown hair approached them.

"Excuse me?" Her tone of voice kind of bothered Draco. It reminded him of his mother's. Draco raised and eyebrow and barely noticed when his two new comrades stepped closer to him.

"Yes?"

"Have you seen a toad anywhere? Poor Neville here lost his." She gestured to the round-faced boy.

"A toad?" Draco scoffed and inwardly cringed at his words. "Who in their right mind would want a toad of all things?" The girl's eyes darkened and she grabbed hold of the boy's arm as he began snuffling, and squeezed by them to continue down the hall. Draco felt kind of bad for the way he spoke to them, they were only trying to find a lost pet, but he never let it show.

_"Malfoys don't feel bad about anything, Draco. A Malfoy doesn't feel sympathy for those lesser than himself."_

He shook his head and willed his feet to move again only to stop up short when he saw a family face through a compartment door window.

Rumors he'd been hearing over the past few days and all day on the train filled his mind as he stared at the boy through the glass. It was hard to see, the boy's bangs were in the way, but Draco could just make out the tell-tale lightning shaped scar on his forehead. Draco wasted little time in opening the door and plastering his smug smirk onto his face. Appearances, everything is about appearances.

"Is it true?" he said, barely hidden interest lacing his voice. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?" It was a stupid question really, he'd already seen the scar, but Draco felt the need to ask.

"Yes," said the Potter boy. Draco noticed how he looked over his shoulder straight at Crabbe and Goyle. He only noticed then how close they were.

"Oh," Draco hummed. "This is Crabbe and this is Goyle." He waved his hand carelessly towards each boy in turn, but he was glad for their company. It made this whole confrontation easier. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. "

The other boy, who Draco had just now noticed, gave a slight cough that sounded suspiciously like he might have been hiding a snigger. Draco looked at him suddenly.

_"The Malfoy name is not to be laughed at Draco, those who did regret it dearly."_

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are." It was quite obvious after all. Flaming red-hair and robes that looked like five or six people owned them before. "My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." It was a snide comment and the boy's face turned crimson, whether from embarrassment or rage Draco didn't know. He turned back to Harry Potter. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

_"No one stands above us pure-bloods, Draco. No one stands above the Malfoy name."_

He held out his hand to shake Potter's, but Potter didn't take it. Draco frowned deeply.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said calm and cool.

The blonde boy's ears burned as the slightest bit of pink dusted his pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," his words were spoken in a slow manner. Bloody hell, he's doing it again. Letting his mouth speak words he'll regret. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents." Shock registered on both Potter and Weasley's faces and Draco felt unknown rage course through his veins. The rage was solely placed for himself, though. "They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you." And that was the nail in the coffin for any solemn type of friendship between them.

Both Potter and Weasley stood up, knocking sweet wrappers to the ground.

"Say that again," Weasley said, his face matched his hair and Draco knew it was definitely from rage.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Draco sneered at them. Stop it. Stop talking. You don't want them to hate you anymore than they already due now. Potter's face changed to curiosity for a moment as if he'd seen something utterly confusing in Draco's eyes, but the anger quickly took over his features again.

"Unless you get out now," Potter said as he stood up against a two-to-three ratio.

"But we don't feet like leaving, do we, boys?" Draco really didn't want to leave, he wanted to apologize and say something kinder.

_"Malfoys do NOT apologize for anything, Draco!"_

"We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some." He didn't really want any of their sweets, he'd gain to much if he so much as took a single bite.

Draco said nothing as Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to the Weasley, who leapt forward as if he could stop a boy twice his size, but before he'd so much as get close to the larger boy, Goyle let out a pain-filled cry and jerked his hand back.

A fat, grey and old rat was hanging off his finger, sharp teeth sunk deep into Goyle's hand. Draco felt Crabbe pull him into the hallway as Goyle swung the rat round and round, howling in pain, and when it finally flew off and banged against the window, Draco led three of them away and back down the hall towards their own compartment.

Goyle was hissing and trying to get the tiny bite mark to stop bleeding as they took their seats again. Draco reached into his robes and pulled out his elegant wand.

"Let me see." Goyle hesitantly held out his hand and Draco looked at it, gently holding the much larger hand his own delicate and tinier ones. "It's not too bad, hopefully the vermin didn't have rabies." Poor Goyle looked horrified. "Just a joke, now hold still." Draco lightly tapped Goyle's palm and muttered an incantation. A blue light trailed from his wand tip till it covered Goyle's hand and, when the light faded, there was not a mark to be seen.

Draco had learned that spell when reading a book from his families vast collection of books in their own personal library. He personally thought it might come in handy and he was right. The two large boys were looking at Draco in a rather impressed kind of way, bit there was something else in their eyes too. Was it awe? Affection, maybe? Draco didn't know.

_"A Malfoy takes advantage of every opportunity."_


	3. Sorted this way

Draco, after spending some more time with Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe, was suddenly very thankful his mother insisted he stay closer to home instead of heading off to Durmstrang like his father wanted.

Draco and the other two had already changed into their school robes well before they even got close to Hogwarts. He never noticed them look at him with odd expressions.

"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately." An echoey voice filtered through the compartment and Urania gave a small hoot from inside her cage. Draco watched in amusement as Crabbe and Goyle shoved the remaining uneaten sweets and confections from the second round Draco bought them into their robe pockets. Again they offered some to Draco and again he refused.

Draco reached a finger into Urania's cage and petted her head in a comfortable manner and, together, all three boys entered the crowded corridor and Draco was even more thankful for Crabbe and Goyle at his sides, they kept everyone else from touching and jostling him. The train slowed slowly, wheels screeching, until it finally came to a complete stop. People were pushing and shoving past Draco's two companions, but neither seemed to mind as they made sure not a single person touched Draco Malfoy.

Draco took deep lungfuls of fresh, night air as he and his cronies stepped out on the tiny, dark platform of Hogsmeade Station. Draco gave a small shiver at the chill night air nipping at his nose ear tips. A lamp was bobbing in the air, high above the other student's heads.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" That Hagrid from Diagon Alley came into view, a smile beaming on his face. At least Draco thought it was a smile. It was hard to tell with that big scraggly beard of his. "C'mon, follow me - any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!" His loud voice was giving Draco a migraine as he began rubbing his temples and following the larger than large oaf.

Occasionally, Draco slipped or tripped on the wet ground or an unseen obstacle, but Crabbe or Goyle always managed to catch him before he made a fool of himself. The path seemed steep and quite too narrow for Draco's liking. Nobody spoke except for a few hushed, but excited whispers. He heard the girl with the bush for hair off to his right, mumbling incoherently to herself.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," the giant of a man called over his shoulder to the group of first years. "Jus' round this bend here."

Exclamations of all kinds coursed through the crowd at the sight of Hogwarts castle. Draco just stared at it, transfixed with eyes full of wonder and amazement. He heard either Goyle or Crabbe gasp, but he was unsure. Hogwarts. It was...It was  _beautiful_.

Their narrow path had opened suddenly and widely onto the edge of the great black lake Draco had read about in his  _Hogwarts: A History_ book. The windows were sparkling in the starry sky the beautifully vast castle had so many turrets and towers. It was the type of view to take one's breathe away.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, he pointed to the fleet of tiny boats sitting on the water's edge by the shore. Draco approached the closest boat and was followed in by Goyle and Crabbe without question. A dark-haired girl sat in their boat and held out her hand to Draco with a mix of a smile and a smirk plastered on her face.

"Pansy. Pansy Parkinson." Draco shook her hand.

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." This Pansy seemed awestruck and just about latched on to his side, much to the anger of Crabbe and Goyle who glared daggers at the girl.

"Everyone in?" the gamekeeper's voice boomed across the lake. He had a whole boat to himself. "Right then...FORWARD!"

Draco jerked slightly as the boat began moving in sync with the others. After that, it glided quite smoothly across the inky black lake. Not the slightest bit of bumping. Not a sound from any of the boats. All were silent, staring up at their new home for the months to come. The castle was huge and towered over them as their boats moved closer to the cliff on which it stood proud.

"Heads down!" The yell surprised Draco, but he quickly ducked as they finally reached the cliff. Their little boat carried them through a curtain of ivy, hiding a wide opening in the cliff face. A dark tunnel followed this and Draco had a strong suspicion that they were right under the castle. Soon though, the tunnel ended and the boats began bumping against the shore of what looked like an underground harbor. Draco stood almost unsteadily and Crabbe took his hand to help the unbalanced boy out. The other three out of their boat onto the wet rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" Draco looked over as Hagrid was talking to the round-faced boy. Draco vaguely remembered the girl calling him Neville.

"Trevor!" Neville cried out and just about snatched his toad from the giant man. Draco felt a small smile etch itself across his features, but quickly changed it into his usual sneer as he passed Potter and Weasley. Hagrid began leading the group of 11 year-olds up a damp passageway, coming out finally onto the grass right in the magnificent castle's shadow. They were ushered up a few stone steps and Draco wrapped his arms around himself as the cool hair made a shiver wrack his lithe frame. The Pansy girl was still clinging to his side, though, so that helped keep the cold at bay.

A huge, elegant oak door stood before them.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

A gigantic fist was raised and knocked exactly three times on the door.

The second the third knock rang out, the door swung open immediately and a tall, dark-haired witch wearing emerald-green robes stood in front of them all. Her face was stern with a no-nonsense or else look. Draco felt almost as intimidated as he did when in the presence of his parents.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall."

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

The entrance hall was just as breathtaking as Draco read about. He couldn't see the ceiling it was so high, torches with flickering warm flames lined the stone walls in their sconces, and a finely carved marble staircase that made Draco's own manor look shabby. They passed by a set of large double doors where hundreds of voices could be heard, muffled by the thick stone. Of course the upper years are here first. They followed Professor McGonagall right past the door and into a small, empty chamber just off of the entrance hall. People were crowding Draco from all ends but Crabbe and Goyle just managed to give him enough breathing room. Except for Pansy. She was latched onto him like a leech. Draco didn't mind too much and was oblivious to the smirk on Pansy's face and the envious glares of some of the other first year girls. Any whispering was completely hushed as McGonagall began speaking in a calm and no-nonsense voice that matched her face. It dared anyone to interrupt her.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she spoke and a small smile briefly flitted across her face. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room." Draco shifted from side to side and felt a sudden nervousness like he's never felt before.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

What if he wasn't a Slytherin? His family would be so ashamed of him...Maybe even disown him...

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Draco subconsciously ran his hand over his slicked back blonde hair. "I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly." McGonagall let her eyes roam over the students, momentarily landing on Draco, before she swept out of the chamber. Very few people began whispering once she left. They were going over what possible test they could have to face. Draco smirked. None of them were even close to right. Bushy hair girl was rambling a list of spells under her breathe. Draco was more than impressed by the sheer amount of spells she had researched.

Draco was drawn out of all thoughts as he heard several people scream and saw a few jump. Draco swirled around in his spot and gaped at the sight before him. Sure, he knew Hogwarts was filled with them and he read about them plenty of times. But reading and seeing were completely and utterly different things. Roughly around 20 ghosts floated through the back wall and were gliding across the room, talking to each other as if there was nothing out of the ordinary, not sparing any single glances at the group of huddled first years.

They were pearly-white and transparent and Draco loved looking at them. A few nearer to Draco looked as if they were arguing or maybe talking in jest towards each other. The fat monk was closest to Draco and he had a very calming look on his face, so calm that he eased Draco's nervousness about the sorting.

"Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance-"

The ruff-wearing ghost cut in. "My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not even a ghost - I say, what are you all doing here?" His attention was shifted and it seemed as if he had only just now noticed the group of children. Draco caught his breathe and not a single student answered the ghost.

"New students!" said the fat monk, the Fat Friar if Draco remembered his name correctly from his book. He gave a warm, gentle smile around at the frightened children, easing a few of them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?" A few people, Draco included, nodded. "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, you know."

"Move along now," McGonagall's voice cut in as she returned with an impossibly sterner look. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." The ghosts, grumbling under their breathes, floated through the opposite wall they came in by. "Now, form a line and follow me." Draco's limbs felt heavy as he stood in the forming line. Pansy had finally let go of him to stand in front of him while Crabbe stood behind him. Silently, the line of shaking first years followed McGonagall out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through the large, masterpiece of a door into the Great Hall.

Thousands of candles floated midair of four long tables, where the rest of the school sat. Beautiful golden plates and goblets littered the tables and another long table was at the front of the hall where the teachers sat. Draco found himself searching the row of for his godfather and bingo, they locked eyes. Severus Snape's mouth quirked up at the end and he nodded to Draco. McGonagall led Draco and the rest of his year up towards the teacher's table. A glance up showed a beautifully inky black ceiling dotted with stars instead of a ceiling. He found himself naming constellations in his head that he found as he waited for McGonagall to speak.

The stern, emerald-clad woman set down a well-worn four-legged stool in front of them and then a pointed wizard's hat that had definitely seen better days. It was old and frayed with patches sewn on and dirt staining the torn up fabric. The Hogwarts Sorting Hat. Draco suddenly felt his nervousness come back ten-fold. He watch as a rip near the brim tore open wide as if it was a mouth...and then it began it's song of the year.

 _"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.

 _You can keep your bowlers black,_  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.

 _There's nothing hidden in your head,_  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  


 _You might belong in Gryffindor,_  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve and bravery  
Set Gryffindors apart;

 _You might belong in Hufflepuff,_  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;

 _Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_  
if you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning  
Will always find their kind;

 _Or perhaps in Slytherin_  
You'll make you're real friends,  
Those cunning folk use any means  
To achieve their ends.

 _So put me on! Don't be afraid!_  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

Everyone around them burst into applause as the hat finished its song and bowed to each of the tables and then to the first years. Now it became quite still again. Draco was still nervous, the song doing little to ease. He  _HAD_  to be Slytherin. He just had to. McGonagall stepped forward and unrolled a piece of parchment before address the first years.

"When I call you're name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she cleared her throat and adjusted her spectacles. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A girl with blonde pigtails pushed past Draco and he thought he heard Crabbe growl behind him. She sat on the stool and the hat was placed on her head, falling right over her eyes. A moment passed.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" A table to Draco's right cheered and clapped as 'Abbott, Hannah' went to join them.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Brocklehurst, Mandy!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Brown, Lavender!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Bulstrode, Millicent!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Crabbe, Vincent!" Crabbe patted Draco on the shoulder and made his way up to the stool. That hat took a moment before yelling out:

"SLYTHERIN!" Crabbe sent him a look as he made his way towards Slytherin table. His his nervousness began making him feel queasy. The hat shouted out the house at once sometimes and others it took a little longer to decide where they should go.

"Granger, Hermione!" The bushy haired girl from the train scurried up towards the stool. It took a good 2 minutes before the hat shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" and Weasley made an audible groan.

"Goyle, Gregory!"

Goyle like Crabbe patted his shoulder and was sorted into Slytherin. He went to join his buddy at the table. Toad boy was soon called up and declared a Gryffindor. It was almost his turn now. Butterflies filled his stomach.

Finally, after "MacDougal, Morag" Draco's name was called.

"Malfoy, Draco!"

The young boy mustered up as much confidence as possible and swaggered forward towards the stool. The hat was placed on his head and he was immersed in darkness.

_"Hmm, a Malfoy. Usually so easy to sort. But your mind tells me how good you could be in Ravenclaw or even Gryffindor."_

Slytherin, please, please, please.

_"Set on Slytherin, huh? Have you got something to prove? Someone to make proud?"_

Slytherin. Put him in Slytherin. Please.

_"Very well, your heart is in Slytherin and that is where you shall go-"_

"SLYTHERIN!"

Relief course through Draco's veins as he removed the hat and went to join Crabbe and Goyle at the Slytherin table. Without even being asked, they slid apart to allow him to sit between them. Draco barely managed to keep his signature smirk on his face. His confidence did not match. Few people were being left to be sorted and Draco was waiting, just waiting for  _his_  turn. After Pansy's turn ("SLYTHERIN!") she looked like she wanted to squeal as she ran to their table and sat down rat across from Draco, shooting dirty looks at Crabbe and Goyle for taking the seats next to him. Draco never noticed the looks, his eyes were locked on the sorting.

"Potter, Harry!"

Draco sat up straighter in his seat and watched with his fingers crossed that Harry Potter would be a Slytherin. It was a small chance, but he could hope. People all around were muttering and all eyes were on Potter as the Sorting Hat was place on his head.

It took a few seconds more than Draco's own sorting, but, once he heard the Hat's verdict, his heart fell.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The loudest roar yet erupted from the Gryffindor table. A set of red-haired twins kept yelling, "We got Potter! We got Potter! We got Potter!" Draco watched with big sad eyes as Harry joined the Gryffindors but he squashed any feelings of that nature and turned back to the Sorting, trying to ignore the sad sting he felt. A ghost covered in blood came in late and frightened some of the first years as he took a seat near Pansy. Poor girl looked like she swallowed a lemon.

"Thomas, Dean" went to Gryffindor, "Turpin, Lisa" to Ravenclaw, Weasley went to Gryffindor and finally "Zabini, Blaise" came over to Slytherin. Draco ignored the stab of jealousy as Weasley sat right next to Potter. McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat and stool away. The Headmaster, Draco presumes was Albus Dumbledore, had rose to his feet and opened his arms wide. His eyes were twinkling like the stars above.

"Welcome," he began. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" He sat back down and Draco couldn't help but grin as he clapped loudly. Draco want to laugh...only

_"Malfoys do not laugh in public."_

"Draco? Are you okay?" Draco shook his head to clear his thoughts as he looked across to Pansy. Crabbe and Goyle were giving him odd looks and even the bloody ghost, The Bloody Baron he remembered, even had a look of mild concern.

"Hm? Yes, of course Pansy."

Draco's stomach growled as suddenly his senses were accosted with the smells and sights of so many different foods as the dishes were magically piled with food. So many different kinds of meat and vegetables and fruits. Steak and bacon and sausage. Mashed and roast potatoes, peas and carrots and fries. Gravy boats across the table.

As much as Draco wanted to just pile his plate high with food, he reeled himself in. Unlike Crabbe and Goyle (and even Pansy), who all filled their plates to the brim with just about some of everything, Draco filled his plate with small amount of mainly vegetables and a small piece of steak. Pansy shot him a frown when that's all he added to his plate.

"Is that all you're going to eat?"

"Hm? Oh yes, I never had much of an appetite."

"You didn't eat on the train, Malfoy." Goyle glanced at him with a piece of bacon sticking out of his mouth.

"He didn't? You should eat more than."

"I'm fine with this Pansy."

_"Malfoys can't be fat darling. You can't have any of those sweets."_

The girl gave a huff and crossed her arms but let it go.

They ate in silence and Draco had just about devoured his small portions. He looked up once he was done and pushed his plate away. There he was. Bloody Potter. Looking. Right. At.  _Him_. Potter tilted his head and frowned at Draco, gesturing to his own plate and frowning deeper. Draco forced himself to glare at Potter and shook his head.

When every one ate their fill, the food disappeared and in its place the desserts appeared. Draco's mouth watered but he ignored the still hunger he felt and the desire to try as many of these desserts as possible. His friends kept looking at him as they filled their plates once again and Draco refused to look at Potter again.

Draco was tapping the table with his fingers impatiently.

"Draaaacooo." Pansy drew his name out long and Crabbe and Goyle snickered.

"Yes Pansy?"

"Aren't you going to have any dessert?"

"Nah, I've never been fond sugary foods." A lie, but it seemed ad if Pansy believed him.

Draco was quite good at lying after all.


	4. Classes Begin

Draco slept fitfully that night. He would never admit it, but not sleeping in his bed at the manor was uncomfortable and he disliked it. He would get used to it though. He dragged the green curtains on his four poster bed closed so the other four boys wouldn't be able to see him struggling to chase the sandman. Crabbe and Goyle were snoring in the two beds to the right of his and Blaise Zabini as well as another boy named Theodore Nott were to his left.

Draco couldn't hear any of the others tossing and turning in their beds. Plenty of snoring, yes; but no constantly rustling sheets or blankets.

And, before he knew it, Goyle was gently shaking him awake for breakfast.

Draco sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes, oblivious to the four boys pausing in their morning routines to watch him. The grey-eyed boy slowly stood and stretched, working the kinks out of his body, before heading off to the dormitory's bathroom. A look in the mirror told him that he was so glad his father wasn't hear to see him. His hair was a mess and bags were under his eyes from lack of sleep.

_"Appearances mean everything. A Malfoy never looks less than perfect."_

By the time he was done fixing his hair and making himself look impeccable, the others were already ready and waiting. Nott and Zabini were already gone but Crabbe and Goyle were waiting for him on their beds.

On the way to breakfast they probably would have gotten lost dozens of times had it not been for Draco's photographic memory. Pansy met them at the door to the Great Hall and immediately took Draco's arm, dragging him to the Slytherin table with his lackeys following close behind him. Draco didn't know why this girl was so attached to him, it didn't make sense in his opinion. Maybe it was because he was a Malfoy? People liked to get in good with the Malfoy name, it opened so many possible doors.

Draco shook the thought from his head. She had to like him for him, right? Right.

Breakfast was a boring affair. Zabini from their dormitory had sat with them, right next to Pansy and across from Draco. It was as if people were drawn to him and Draco didn't like it. Draco's long lashes fluttered as he tried to keep his eyes open, sleep trying to pull him under. After Draco had ate his minuscule breakfast and the mail had come, the heads of houses were passing out class schedules.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco's first few days of classes weren't too eventful, everyone still tasting the waters. He was pleased to see that he was at least a little bit ahead of some of the other students. He had to be top of his year or else. He did not want to know what his father would do. He became closer to Blaise (whom he officially stopped calling Zabini) and Pansy (whom still stuck to him like glue). Blaise and Pansy tended to sit on either side of him during classes with Crabbe and Goyle always behind him in their body guard like ways.

Draco enjoyed his Astronomy class on top of one of the towers. Professor Sinestra was immensely impressed with his knowledge of constellations and stars. History of Magic was quite easy, but a bit of a bore though. He had already learned many of these facts and dates during his studies at a younger age. And the teacher, a ghost none-the-less talked and talked and talked with the same droning tone of voice. Herbology, on the other hand, was a bit excitable. It wasn't too hard, he's read enough about magical plants in his books. The strict Professor McGonagall impressed him and his class when she changed her own desk into a pig and back as a demonstration of Transfiguration. She kept shooting these odd looks at Draco their whole class that made him quite uncomfortable. It was as if she could see right through his arrogant Malfoy mask and see the scared little kid beneath. Draco hated the looks. Don't even get him started on Defense Against the Dark Arts. His nose still burned from the smell of garlic. Charms was a little better at least, he got odd, calculating looks from the dwarf-sized Professor Flitwick but that was about it.

What he was really looking for was Double Potions class on Friday. Slytherin and Gryffindor. He could at least see Potter and his obnoxious face.

 

* * *

 

_Dear Draco,_

_I hope your first week of schooling has gone well. Remember to study a_  
lot. Malfoys are second to none darling. Don't let anyone be ahead of  
you. Remember, no unhealthy or fatty foods either. And do try and  
get some sleep, please.

 _Love,  
_ _Mother_

Draco heaved an internal sigh and suddenly felt guilty about all the food he just ate. He would burn it off as quickly as possible as to not upset his mother and hit the library after classes. He had to be top of his class.

 

* * *

 

 

Potions was eventful...He was obviously favoured by Snape, as were the rest of the Slytherins, but he couldn't help but feel a ping of sympathy for the tormented Gryffindors during class. He tried to brush that feeling off.

He was one of the first to class with Crabbe and Goyle hot on his heels. They always stuck by Draco for some reason. Draco had never asked them too. It was just two more people who confused him. Blaise and Pansy showed up soon after and took their usual positions at their cauldrons on either side of Draco. The draft of the dungeons made a shiver go down Draco's spine. Professor Snape began class with roll call like many of the other teachers. Draco raised his hand lazily when his name was called, like with all his other classes.

When Snape paused in the middle of roll call, Draco drew his eyes up from the stains and burns and marks of the work tables to stare at his godfather, whom had a look of disgust mixed with hatred etched across his face.

"Ah, Yes," his voice was soft, but cold at the same time as his eyes locked on the Gryffindors' side of the classroom. A quick turn of his head told Draco he was right about who Snape was sneering at. "Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity." Draco covered his mouth a snickered quietly. Not at Harry, but at the way his Godfather was talking to the poor boy. He heard Crabbe and Goyle mimicking him from behind. But that was the end of that. Snape finished up his roll call and began observing the class with his dark, cold eyes. Draco began day dreaming as Snape went into the basics of potion-making. He's heard it all before dozens of times. Why should have to listen to it again?

He was only brought out of his daydreaming by an elbow to the ribs, courtesy of Pansy. He hissed as quietly as possible and sent her a glare.

_"Malfoys do not show weakness."_

"Potter!" Snape's sudden shout caught Draco's attention as he broke away from the staring contest he had with Pansy. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Easy. Draught of Living Death, one of the most powerful sleeping potions.

Granger's hand was in the air in an instance and Draco glared at her. She would be who he had to outsmart to be top of their year.

"I don't know, sir," said Potter. Draco frowned at the sneer he shot at Potter. Even he had to admit his Godfather was being unfair.

Snape made a 'tut' sound. "Fame clearly isn't everything. Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar."

Another easy one. You can find them in the stomach of a goat. They are very good for helping with poisons.

Draco tried to stifle his laughter. This time it was at the expense of the poor boy Snape was making a fool of. "I don't know, sir..."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Draco's laughter immediately stopped. The potions teacher was going a little too far. Granger still had her hand shaking in the air.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

They're the same plant.

"I don't know." Potter's voice was quiet as he spoke and he gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

Draco couldn't help but let out a quite un-Malfoy-like snort of laughter that made his friends look at him surprised. He wasn't the only one to laugh at least.

"Sit down," Granger shrank in her seat at Snape's clipped tone.. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

Draco quickly dug through his bag for some parchment and his favorite quill. It came from his father's prized peacock. An albino peacock no less.

"And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter." Draco already knew Snape was biased when it came to Gryffindor House, but seeing it was different then hearing about it. Those poor Gryffindors were tormented the whole Potions lesson.

The professor had put them all in pairs to work on simple curing boils potion. Draco was paired with Blaise for the assignment, unaware of the sour expression on Pansy's face. Draco tried not to feel embarrassed as Snape drew everyone's attention to the way he had stewed his horned slugs. He knew he should feel pride in the way his potion was turning out, but, he just couldn't. He managed to place a smug smirk on his face, though it didn't reach his eyes.

 _"Malfoys are no less than_  perfect."

A quick glance to the Gryffindors had him accidentally catching eyes with Hogwarts resident celebrity. He couldn't understand the look in Potter's eyes and it infuriated him, like nothing ever had before.

_Hiiiiiiiisssssssss!_

Draco's, along with everyone else's, head snapped towards the front of the classroom where a plume of acidic green smoke and hissing erupted from. Longbottom, that boy who kept loosing his toad, had accidentally melted his partner's cauldron into this odd molten shape. Their potion was seeping across the icy stone floor, making people cry out and jump up onto their stools as it burned holes in their shoes. Draco wasted no time in hopping onto his stool like the rest of his peers. Poor Longbottom has been drenched in the failed potion when the cauldron collapsed and was moaning in agony as red boils began springing up all over his body.

"Idiot boy!" Snape was more than furious as he waved his wand, dispelling the spilled potion. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?" Longbottom could only manage a whimper and a quick nod. Draco internally winced at the pain the clumsy fool must be in. "Take him up to the hospital wing." Finnegan was quick to grab the whimpering boy round the waist and drag him out of the dungeons. Snape soon turned his attention to Potter and Weasley with an odd look of triumph and fury.

Draco could only clench his fists as he was helped down from his stool by Blaise.

"You, Potter, why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor." That was beyond unfair towards them and Draco would have said something had it been anyone but his Godfather.

Draco pushed down all feelings of pity and turned back to continue helping Blaise with their potion.

 

* * *

 

"Draco, is everything alright?"

"Fine, Pansy."

The dark-haired girl pursed her lips as if she wanted to continue and force him to talk about his problems, but she receded and nodded. Draco turned back to his piece of parchment, continuing to work on the homework Sprout had assigned them. It wasn't too much, but Draco was in a very  _lethargic_  mood. He just didn't feel like doing or talking much. He just felt like he was floating on water and everything around him was muffled.

He didn't much like these feelings.

 

* * *

 

These feelings continued for hours on end the rest of the day. Every now and then they would stop and Draco would feel like the sun was shining a little brighter and the Slytherin dungeons seemed a little less gloomy and cold. But those moments never lasted long and the lethargy came back.

He ended up skipping dinner.

_"Malfoys are NOT fat."_

His head was beginning to hurt.


	5. He's Flying High

Instead of forcing himself to try and sleep, Draco sat on the window seat by his bed, staring blankly out at the dark water of the Black Lake. Usually, during the day it was lighter, prettier from the sunlight hitting it. But at night it was just like this dark, inky abyss that swallowed everything up.

Draco shook his head to clear it of the depressing thoughts.

"Draco?" It was a small, almost unsure, whisper that had the blonde whipping his head towards the speaker. Blaise was sitting up in his bed and rubbing his eyes before staring blearily at Draco. "What are you doing? Is everything okay?" Draco gave his friend a curt nod, his perfect mask back in place.

"Yes, just couldn't-" He cut himself off.

_"Don't you dare show weakness."_

Blaise was staring at him. "Just couldn't what?"

"Just didn't feel much like sleeping, Blaise." They stared at each other for a long, long time before Blaise gave a huff and laid back down, his quiet snoring soon joined the rest.

Draco turned back to staring at the watery abyss that surrounded them.

* * *

Draco was just sitting at breakfast, reading a copy of the  _Daily Prophet_  he snagged from Blaise, much to his friend's annoyance and Pansy's amusement. The front page was plastered with another story of that suicidal bloke who tried to rob Gringotts. Draco just couldn't get around how someone could be so stupid.

He shook his head and threw the paper down on the table.

"I swear," he said. "People are just plain idiots, lunatics, or both!"

* * *

Flying lessons.

Draco felt more nervous then he had before he was sorted. What if he made a fool of himself? Granted his father had been teaching him minor flying skills since he was young, but that was beside the point. Even the best Quidditch players messed up on brooms.

Draco was having a staring contest with the bulletin board with the notice of their Flying Lessons. This Thursday, 3:30 sharp...with Gryffindor.

That meant he would be learning with  _Potter_. He might make a fool of himself in front of the golden boy and that was a shame he could not endure.

Merlin, help him.

* * *

"Wachya readin'?"

Draco lowered his book down and glared daggers at Pansy.

"Lower your voice, this is a library after all and I'd rather not be kicked out by Madam Pince."

Pansy rolled her eyes and plopped down next to him at the table. "Yeah, yeah. Anyways, what are you reading?"

"Just a book on healing. Nothing too big." Something his father would never approve of him reading. She stared at him. "What?"

"You really do have nice eyes Draco."

"Wh-What?" Draco spluttered and straightened up.

_"Malfoys don't slouch."_

Pansy winked and basically skipped out of the library, ignoring Draco's stuttered demands for answers.

* * *

"Are you guys excited for our first flying lesson? I sure am," Blaise chimed as he dropped into his seat across from Draco for dinner. "Can't wait to see if famous Harry Potter falls off his broom, Draco?"

"Of course. Remember, fame isn't everything." Draco smirked and took a small bite of his potatoes. "Ten galleons says he falls within the first five minutes."

"You're on Malfoy." They shook hands and winked. "No jinxing him either, Draco."

"Oi, now you're taking all the fun out of it."

"No, I just don't want to be cheated out of my winnings."

"You know me so well, Blaisy,"

"Never call me that again."

"Oooo, Blaisy?" Pansy cackled as she filled her plate to the brim with ham. That girl really loves ham..."New nickname for you, Blaisy."

"I hope you're happy Draco..."

"I am. Very much so in fact."

"I hate you."

Four choruses of no you don't were Blaise's answer.

* * *

All through the week leading up to Thursday, there had been little else to talk about amongst the first years besides flying. Draco himself had been going on and on about his own skills on a broom. He was exaggerating to hell and back and he knew it.

"I still don't see why first years can't have their own brooms or join the house Quidditch teams? What's the difference between eleven and twelve anyways? At least father said he'll buy me my own broom for next year. The new Nimbus 2001 when it comes out. It's supposed to be much better than the current 2000."

Draco wasn't even sure if his friends were listening to him rant anymore as they stirred their own potions. Theodore Nott had floated towards their group and was currently partnered with Blaise next to Draco and Pansy with Crabbe and Goyle partnered behind him. By the way Nott talked and got along with the others, Draco just knew there was going to be another member hanging around their little group. He didn't mind it though, Nott was a nice guy and he seemed to know when to stop talking or when people wanted to be left alone. He was good at reading people and Draco liked that.

None of them, at least, seemed annoyed by all of Draco's quidditch and flying talk. He was just one in the many first years that went on and on about it. Some other first years though, the muggle-borns that is, were still confused as in regards to Quidditch and Draco felt kind of bad for them. They've never even heard of the magical world until a few months ago and now they were expected to fly on brooms? He would never let his sympathy show though.

_"Malfoys don't feel sympathy."_

* * *

Breakfast on Thursday was rather annoying than nerve-wracking. Draco could hear Granger all the way from the Gryffindor table, rattling on about various flying tips she had gotten from a book.

"Honestly," Draco scoffed and gestured towards the Gryffindor table. His friends shared his look of annoyance. "Just reading about it doesn't mean you won't fall off your broom and concuss yourself. She's ridiculous if you ask me." Draco thanked whatever deity was listening whenever Granger's monologing was interrupted by dozens upon dozens upon dozens of owls swarmed the Great Hall delivering parcels and letters and newspapers and magazines.

Draco, against his better judgement, had begun to taunt Harry and his lack of letters and packages by gloating as he opened his own packages of gifts from home. This time Urania dropped a small parcel, a letter and a copy of that morning's Daily prophet in front of him.

"Ooo, what did ya get Draco?" Pansy leaned over the table to get a better look at the package Draco received. He held his hand up to stall her chattering and opened the letter first.

_Dear Draco,_

_I hope classes are going well. You're the top student in each class, I'm_  
_sure. I heard that you're going to start your flying lessons, good_  
_luck sweetie. Remember to be ahead of everyone else. Especially the Muggle-borns._  
_Do not dare shame your family by being beaten by a Muggle-born or,_  
_Lord forbid, that Harry Potter of all people. Anyways, I sent you a copy of_  
_Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy. I figured you could learn some interesting facts_  
_about our family's, and those related to it, history in it._

_Love,  
Mother._

Draco felt his nerves heighten ten-fold. He would be better than the rest. The Muggle-borns and Potter...Not even a Pure-blood would beat him, Draco would make sure of it. Finally, just to quench Pansy's curiosity, Draco opened the parcel to show her his newest book. Her nose wrinkled in disgust and she shook her head.

"Really? Out of all the books they could have sent you, it was that? You're parents live in another era."

"Tell me about it..." Draco mumbled and set the book to the side, favoring the Daily Prophet.

A small glint is what caught Draco's attention next.

And it came from the Gryffindor table. Neville Longbottom, who is perhaps the most uncoordinated boy Draco has ever met, was holding up a small ball in his hands and eagerly yapping about it to his fellow Gryffindors. Draco stood, the prophet, his letter and new book still on the table. No one noticed Pansy snatching the letter and slipping it into her robe pocket. Without a word to either, Crabbe and Goyle stood to follow close after Draco in their normal bodyguard like fashion. No one seemed to notice their approach, though, and they just caught the end of the conversation as the ball glowed crimson.

"You've forgotten something..."

With reflexes befitting a cat, Draco snatched up the ball straight out of Longbottom's hand and held it up to his eyesight to get a better look. A remembrall, of course. That's actually a very practical gift for someone like Neville Longbottom. Draco hardly spared Potter or Weasley a look as they suddenly stood and glowered at him. He just continued inspecting the tiny ball in his hand.

The only time he removed his eyes from the object was when Professor McGonagall almost apparated in front of them. Of course, she hadn't  _actually_  apparated.

"What's going on?" She stared down over the rims of her glasses at them and Draco would have cowered back if that hadn't meant showing weakness.

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Draco scowled and dropped the ball onto the table, taking pleasure in watching it roll and Longbottom hurrying to secure it.

_Why are you so cruel to them?_

_Shut up._

"Just looking," Draco plastered on an innocent smile and made his way back to the Slytherin table with his two lackeys.

* * *

Three-thirty approached a lot quicker than Draco was comfortable with. Nerves were high amongst the Slytherin and Gryffindor first years as they made their way out of the castle and onto the grounds for their very first flying lesson of the year. The Slytherins were actually there before many of the Gryffindors and Draco revelled in the clear sky with the comfortable breeze blowing. He loved being outside like this, but his parents hardly ever let him leave their manor's estate and there were too many trees and garden beds and statues and his father's gods-forsaken peacocks.

This was nice.

Draco really liked it.

Twenty or so broomsticks were lying in neat, perfectly straight lines on the grounds. They were worn and definitely looked like they had seen better days. Perhaps a century ago.

Madame Hooch, this tall and lanky woman with short, choppy grey hair and yellow hawk eyes stalked onto the grounds and blew her whistle to get everyone's attention.

"Well, what are all waiting around for?" Draco flinched at the way she barked her words like a dog. What ever happened to good manners nowadays? "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up." Draco's broom was old with some of the woods' grooves disappearing from years of hands rubbing and holding on for dear life he supposes. The occasional twig stuck out and the tail looked like at one point someone attempted to use it as kindling. "Stick out your right hand over your broom," Madame Hooch made her way to the front of the group of confused first years, "and say 'Up'!"

Draco stuck his hand over his hazardous broom as he took his place between Blaise and Goyle then, unanimously with the rest of the class, shouted 'Up'.

His broom didn't move an inch, except to roll over on the ground like Granger's and a few other students. Draco tried to squash the jealous feeling he felt when he saw Potter's broom immediately jump into his hands. At least he wasn't the only Slytherin struggling. Crabbe and Goyle had sweat forming from concentration and Pansy was yelling up at her's. Blaise and Nott were calmer about it, but even Draco could see there struggling. Draco took a deep breath to calm his rapid thoughts.

"Up!" He spoke again, the command in his voice, and, this time, his broom soared into his hand. Draco felt an odd feeling swell in his chest as he stared at the hunk of wood that was supposed to be a broom clasped tightly in his pale fist. He'd done it. He'd actually done it!

When the majority of the students had their brooms in hand (with the sole exception of Granger who was red in the face from trying), Madame Hooch began showing them all how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end. Malfoy was almost certain he had his grip and posture perfect, just like his father had shown him how to do it, until Madame Hooch had all but humiliated him by saying he had been doing it wrong for years. Draco's face burned as he shot murderous looks at anyone staring at him, especially Potter and Weasley with their gleeful looks.

Blaise patted his shoulder and glared at the two snickering boys a few yards away. "We'll get them later."

"Oh yes we will."

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," Madam Hooch said, interrupting Draco's thoughts of revenge. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle." Draco readied himself in the line of first years, determined to be the first in the air. "Three. Two." But one never came as Longbottom had accidentally shot himself into the air by pushing off way before the whistle came close to Madame Hooch's lips.

Draco dropped his broom, as did a few of his friends, as they began laughing like hyenas at the look of horror mixing with nausea on Longbottom's face.

"Come back, boy!" Madame Hooch shouted, flailing her arms wildly. The poor boy just kept rising straight up into the air, faster and faster and unable to control his broom. He was at least twenty feet up when he looked down at the ground. Draco felt pity when he saw his pale face turn impossibly paler, then mix with green and suddenly he was falling through the air.

_'Thud!'_

A loud thud accompanied by an accompanying crack filled the silent air. Neville Longbottom lay face on the ground in a crumpled pile of robes and bruised flesh while his broomstick just kept going higher til it tilted towards the forbidden forest and disappeared from their sight. Madame Hooch wasted no time in attending to the injured boy and Draco felt admiration for quick wit and thinking.

She was muttering to herself as she examine Longbottom and helped him to his feet. "Broken wrist. Come on, boy. It's all right, up you get." She soon turned her dangerous, hawk eyes on the rest of them.

"None of you is to move," she looked at each of them individually with her stern gaze, "while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch. ' Come on, dear." Longbottom, his face soaked with tears, was gently pulled along by Madame Hooch back into the castle. Draco had no reason for it, but as soon as they were gone he began laughing. When he was given odd looks, he came up with a reason.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?" His face was actually kind of funny. He looked like a tomato. His friends began laughing with him and so did the other first years in his house.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Parvati Patil glowered at him and clenched her fists as if she was about to deck him right then and there. Draco found this even funnier.

"Ooh," Pansy fake swooned into Blaise's arms. "Sticking up for Longbottom? Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati." Draco thought that was kind of mean, but he would never say something was mean or cruel like that.

"Look," he smirked the Malfoy smirk and darted forward before someone else could snag it. In one quick swoop he snatched up Longbottom's dropped Remembrall. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him." The sphere glittered from the sunlight bouncing off it as Draco held it up for other's to see.

"Give that here, Malfoy." A quiet voice spoke up and Draco turned to stare at the Harry Potter who held his hand out expectantly. Draco noticed everyone, Slytherin and Gryffindor alike, stopped talking to watch the two rivals. Draco plastered on his nastiest smile.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find." He looked around and hummed in thought as Potter steamed from anger. "How about...up a tree?" He made sure Harry could see he was staring dead ahead at where the Whomping Willow was planted.

"Give it here!" Potter yelled and lunged at Draco, but the other just danced out of the way and scooped up his own fallen broomstick. He gave another signature Malfoy smirk and leapt on his broom, pushing off into the air. Despite what Madame Hooch said, Draco wasn't lying about being able to fly and he could tell some were impressed, if the way flies were flying in and out of their mouths was any indication. Draco flew up to hover near the top of an old oak tree. It wasn't the Whomping Willow, but it would do.

"Come and get it, Potter!" He hadn't meant it, but Potter grabbed his broom.

"No!" Granger. Always the voice of reason. "Madam Hooch told us not to move, you'll get us all into trouble."

Oh, but of course, Potter ignored her warnings and mounted his broom. He kicked off hard against the grass and soared upwards as easily as of he was a professional Quidditch player. Draco felt green with envy. his dark hair and robes whipped around him in similar fashion to Draco's own. But he knew...Draco knew that Potter found the same feeling he felt. That simple, free feeling. Draco felt annoyed from the screaming and gasping from girls and the whoops of encouragement from boys. More jealousy burned through Draco as Potter turned easily on his broomstick to face him. Draco was stunned into silence.

"Give it here," Potter spoke. "Or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"Oh, yeah?" Draco tried to sneer at him, but the nagging worry he felt at the idea of falling appeared on his face. 

Suddenly, time seemed to slow. Potter gripped his broom handle tightly and leaned forward, shooting straight at Draco. Draco dove out of the way in a split second decision as Potter made another sharp turn around. People clapped for him below. Draco  _hated_  Harry Bloody Potter.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy." 

Draco knew it too. He didn't need them to protect him, but they were always there for him. Back to being a prat then.

"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouts. Draco threw the small, fragile ball high into the air and made a dive for the ground back toward the ground, landing right next to Blaise as if he hadn't moved. His friend patted his shoulder and they both turned to look up and watch as Potter began a full on nose dive to catch that ball. The blonde's mouth hung open and he stared mesmerized at the darker haired boy. People screamed at Potter in fear and encouragement. His arm outstretched and Draco honestly thought he was going to splatter across the grass.

A foot. A measly twelve inches from the ground and Potter caught the bloody thing, pulling out of the nose dive as easily as he dove into it. He at least staggered onto the grass, Draco dissn't know if he could handle Harry landing perfectly. The Remembrall was grasped tightly in his hand.

Damn.

"HARRY POTTER!"

Better.

Professor McGonagall was racing toward the class and Potter got to his feet, trembling.

"Someone's expelled." Pansy snickered in his ear and Draco felt sudden dread. No. Potter couldn't be expelled. Not because of him.

"Never...in all my time at Hogwarts-" McGonagall struggled to find her words to describe such a thing. "-how dare you...might have broken your neck-"

"It wasn't his fault, Professor!"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil!"

"But Malfoy-"

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now." Draco's dread continued to fill his chest as he watched Potter follow slowly behind the teacher with a triumphant look on his smug, pointy face. Crabbe and Goyle matched the look.

Draco felt, for the first time in his life,  _sorry_.


	6. Too tied up to duel

When class ended and Potter nor Madame Hood had returned, the group of First Years slowly dispersed to head back to their respective common rooms or the library or the owlery or whatever. Draco found himself heading to the astronomy tower to think and mope. He didn't want to be the reason someone was expelled, even if it was Potter. The thought of being unable to become a healer made Draco's stomach roll and what if Potter couldn't become what he wanted to be because of  _him_. Draco wouldn't be able to stand it.

Hours passed and he only left when it was officially time for supper. His legs hurt and pins and needles began as he moved for the first time in three hours.

At dinner his friends kept giving him strange, worrying looks as he ate less than usual.

"Draco?"

"Not now." There. There he was.

Draco never knew relief could feel as good as it did when he saw Potter walk into the Great Hall. He stood and his friends shot him knowing looks. Crabbe and Goyle looked hesitant to leave their platefuls of food but nonetheless stood to follow Draco. He noticed the Weasley twins step away from the famous boy and he walked haughtily up to the Gryffindor table, ignoring the venomous glares.

"Having a last meal, Potter?" There goes his mouth again. "When are you getting on the train back to the muggles?" Draco crossed his arms, accidentally digging the nails into his palms.

Potter shot him a look that could freeze ice in Hell. "You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you." His voice was calm and collected but Draco could almost see a vein about to pop on his neck. He could feel the unapproving eyes of his Godfather on his back. Draco swallowed as he felt a bruise forming over his pride.

" _No one disrespects the Malfoy name._ "

"I'll take you on anytime on my own," He struggled to keep his voice steady and arrogant. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only, no contact." He knew Crabbe and Goyle were giving him shocked looks to match the ones on Weasley and Potter's faces. "What's the matter?" He swallowed thickly. "Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?" That was unfair of Draco, he knew Harry had grown up with muggles.

"Of course he has!" Weasley interjected and stood to face him. "I'm his second, who's yours?" Draco was actually surprised but he did quick to steel the look over as he swallowed again.

Potter was watching him too close for comfort.

The blonde turned to look both his companions up and down, sizing up their skills and abilities.

"Crabbe." Goyle was more muscle than magic, Crabbe at least knew how to hold his wand. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked." He only knew that because he tended to hide there when Pansy was becoming too clingy and making him uncomfortable. They nodded and the three Slytherins walked back to their table.

"What were you thinking?!" Pansy had all but shrieked at him when they told her.

"I don't know."

"Were you even thinking at all?!"

"I don't know."

"Are you even going to go?!"

"I don't know..."

"Pansy," Blaise put a calming hand on the fuming girl's shoulders. "Calm down before you draw more attention to us." Slowly Pansy stopped foaming at the mouth and sat back in her seat. "Draco," he turned to his friend. "You can't go. Do you know how many points you'll lose Slytherin if you guys are caught?"

"I know," Draco mumbles quietly and pokes at his plate of food.

"We aren't letting you go."

"Kinda figured..."

* * *

Not long after dinner, news began spreading like wildfire about Harry's new position and Draco felt angry and...jealous? Was he really jealous of Potter of all people? Dammit all to hell.

Harry bloody Potter had become Gryffindor's new seeker! The youngest one in a century, in fact!

Draco felt green with envy. A Malfoy should never feel envy. It was unheard of, but Draco felt it.

This is how he came to find himself ranting to Pansy and Blaise as they sat in the Slytherin commons after dinner. He just went on and on and on about Harry. About how much he hated him, about how unfair it was for him to be allowed to play Quidditch. About anything in the world that was somehow connected to the darker haired boy. His friends just let him rant though, never interrupting and listening intently til he ran out of breath and panted quietly for a few minutes.

They were good friends.

The news of Gryffindor's seeker made Draco want to leave for the duel more than ever though, but his friends wouldn't even let him out of his dormitory to face Potter.

When eleven rolled around, Draco had to be forced to his bed and Pansy had performed that bloody full body bind on him. The nerve!

"Now I'll lift the curse at midnight, there's no way he's waiting around for you for an hour."

"Pansy!"

"Hush, Draco."

And, true to her word, she didn't let him go till midnight. Draco felt angry at her but could only glare at the girl the whole time he was bound.

As Draco finally allowed himself to sleep that night he could feel the watchful eyes of his dorm mates and the dread the Harry might have been caught and expelled.

Why should he care though?

He hated Harry Bloody Potter...

...or did he?


	7. He has to be

Draco had to rub his eyes to believe what he was seeing Thursday morning. Potter and Weasley both were sitting cheerfully at the Gryffindor table stuffing their faces. He thought for sure they had to have been caught and expelled. It honestly filled Draco with relief as much as regret for the stupid decision he made. He shouldn't have challenged Potter to a duel like that. It was an idiotic choice he had made in the heat of the moment. Draco tried to shove any regret down into the deepest pits of his mind, along with any other un-Malfoy-like emotions.

_"Malfoys never regret ANYTHING, Draco."_

A shiver racked up his spine as his father's menacing voice rang through his head, telling him everything a Malfoy isn't.

"-aco."

Pansy's voice cut through his mind.

"Draco." She repeated. "Are you okay?" His friends were staring at him in trepidation and concern.

"Yeah, man." Blaise paused as if he didn't want to continue. "You were spacing out ever since bloody Potter walked in."

Draco's face darkened and he stabbed a piece of egg with his fork. "Just peachy." He shoved the forkful of egg into his mouth as an excuse not to keep talking. Pansy and Blaise both nodded and changed the subject to the new potion Snape would be teaching them soon.

Theodore kept staring at Draco and leaned across the table to talk to him. "I'm going up to the library to study some before classes start. Wanna join me? I could use some help in potions."

Draco gave his friend a rare smile and nodded. "Sure, Theo. I wouldn't mind helping." His friend beamed at him and sat back to attack his plateful of bacon. The blonde took another small bite of his eggs and hummed in thought. He was curious how the two Gryffindors had gotten away with last night. They had both definitely gone, they were too stubborn not to have.

* * *

Bloody Potter. Bloody buggering perfect do-gooder Potter. Draco hated his name almost as much as he hated his face. A solid week after Weasley and Potter lived to see another day at Hogwarts, the mail had arrived and, for once, the Boy Who Bloody Well Lived received his first actual parcel in the mail. It was thin and oddly long, being carried by a group of the largest screech owls Draco ever did see. Every eye was on Potter as it was dropped right into the boy's lap with a letter fluttering to land on top of the parcel.

Oh, there was only one damn thing that parcel could be holding, and it filled Draco with such rage! It was unfair and cruel to the other first years if Bloody Potter got to have a broomstick just because of his famous name. Draco wanted to strike him and break those blasted glasses of his his. Draco bit angrily into his piece of orange and tried to ignore all the chattering flowing from the Gryffindor table as Potter was asked again and again to open his package.

Whatever was in that letter sure had those blasted two happy, though, and it only added fuel to the fire that was Draco's rage. Weasley and Potter just about jumped from their seats and raced out of the hall, both holding on to parcel and stumbling over one another.

"You okay Draco?" Crabbe was mumbling into his ear and Draco nodded quickly. "Wanna follow them then?" He nodded again and both stood along with Goyle.

"We'll be back." He waved to his friends and just about stormed out of the Great Hall after Hogwarts' golden boy. The two didn't seem to notice the two lumbering orcs with the fragile fairy between them. Draco pulled his companions down a small, curved hallway that wrapped around under a set of stairs and came out on the other side.

Draco tried to ignore the sting from the downright hateful looks he was given. The blonde gave a quiet huff and just about yanked what was undoubtedly a packaged broom out of Potter's hands. He felt it and hefted the weight just for show and stepped out of Weasley's reach as he made a grab for the package.

"That's a broomstick," he scoffed and shoved the broom back into the other's arms. He relished at the look of slight pain, Potter felt. Draco tried to control and school his jealousy into a cool facade, but he highly doubted the others believed it. Weasley suddenly sported the smuggest look Draco ever saw on a Weasley, including those blasted pranksters.

"It's not just any old broomstick," Draco ground his teeth together at the sing-song voice directed towards him. "It's a Nimbus Two did you say you've got at home, Malfoy? A Comet Two Sixty?" The grin the redhead shot at Potter just made Draco even more jealous. Then the idiotic boy continued. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus." Draco knew that, everyone knew that, but he still liked his Comet all the same. It was the perfect broom for him and he hated anyone who disagreed. Weasley's words only fueled Draco's need to knock him down and into the dirt.

"What would you know about it, Weasley," Draco's words were snarled at the other and he felt a hand on his lower back, lightly gripping his robes as if to prevent Draco from lunging at the smug boy. He shot a look towards his friends and Goyle just barely shook his head and cracked the knuckles on his free hand. Draco breathed deeply and stuck his nose up in the air with his arms crossed haughtily. If you looked at him now, you would say he was almost the spitting image of his mother, who did the exact same thing when she was in a huff. "You couldn't afford half the handle! I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig." The smug look turning to pure rage was just icing on a very delicious chocolate cake to Draco. Both Crabbe and Goyle stepped forward when it looked like Ron was going to pounce at them, but, before anyone said or did anything more, tiny Professor Flitwick appeared and gentle nudged Draco's elbow to get him to move slightly to the side.

"Not arguing, I hope boys?" His higher than normal voice broke the silence as he looked from one boy to the next, gauging the situation.

Draco spoke up quickly. "Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor!"

"Yes, yes. That's right." Flitwick shot Potter a small smile and turned his back on the three Slytherins as if they weren't even there. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?" Draco's face fell and his mouth hung open slightly.

"A Numbus Two Thousand, it is." Potter bit his lip in an attempt to keep from laughing, the only real reaction Draco has seen from him during this whole confrontation. Potter just had to keep going too..."And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it." Draco's face flushed red and he quickly turned to walk away as the quiet laughter of Potter and Weasley faded behind them.

"You okay Draco?"

"No, I'm bloody well not." He headed straight for the dungeons with the excuse that he forgot one of his school books on his bed. He waved his friends off and told them to go back to breakfast. Draco really just wanted to be alone to wallow in his anger and self-pity for a few moments before class.

* * *

The rest of the day was pure and utter misery for Draco. He couldn't help but keep thinking about the look on Potter's face this morning. It angered and infuriated him. It also made him just the taddest bit upset too...

Draco was so absorbed in his thoughts after classes as he headed up to the library that he ended up tripping over his own robes and crashed towards the cold stone floor. Luckily, no one was around to witness his humiliation. His friends were back in the commons and the hallway was literally deserted as far as Draco could see.

"Bloody hell," Draco cursed under his breath and began picking up his books that he dropped. "Honestly, what is wrong with me? A Malfoy doesn't bloody trip over his own two feet."

"Everyone trips over their own two feet once in awhile." Draco's head snapped up and his pale blue-grey eyes met shocking green. Potter slowly knelt in front of Draco and began picking up the books. "It doesn't matter if you're a Malfoy or not. Everyone makes mistakes."

"Not everyone's father beats them for mistakes though-" His eyes widen and he ducks his head as he began picking up his things faster. He hadn't meant to say it out loud! Certainly not so Potter of all people could hear him!

"Excuse me?" Potter stops everything and sets the pile of books carefully on the ground and away from the broken bottle of ink. Draco ignored him and reached for his favorite quill before the ink got to it. Just as he caught it in his fingertips, Potter's hand clasped his wrists in a tight grip. "What did you just say?"

"Potter, let go." Draco tugged in vain at the hold on his wrists.

"Malfoy-"

"Potter, it was a stupid, spiteful comment. That's all it was, so. Drop. It." He yanked at his wrist once more and Potter finally relented, releasing the other boy.

"Fine Malfoy." He picks the books back up and hands them off to Draco before standing. "But if you ever need to talk...I'll listen. I understand it." Potter turned and walked down the hallway without a single glance back at the other. Draco quickly picked up his remaining things and continued on his way towards the library, wiping his watering eyes on his robes' sleeve.

_"Malfoys don't cry!"_

Draco was starting to get real sick of being a Malfoy.

* * *

Potter's words rang in his ears for the remainder of the day. They kept bouncing around and interrupting his thoughts during classes and dinner. Draco would have taken Potter up on his offer, but his Malfoy pride would just not allow it. He really hadn't meant to say anything like that in front of anyone, let alone Harry Bloody Potter. It was a private problem he dealt with behind the closed doors of Malfoy Manor. Even his own mother knew nothing of the problems Draco faced when it came to his father. All the more reason for Draco to be the perfect son.

He had to be perfect.

He was perfect...

As long as they're happy with him.

Draco was an internal mess by the time he retired to the first year Slytherin dormitories for the night. He just wanted to pull the curtains on his four poster closed and curl up to cry. Potter was the first person who ever saw passed Draco's perfect Malfoy mask and caught a glimpse of the hurting eleven year old. And the thought just made Draco hurt more. Blaise and Pansy kept trying to talk to him and ask if he was okay, but Draco waved off their concerns as nonchalantly as he could.

"I'm fine, really." His voice sounded weak and tired. "Just a little under the weather is all..."

"But Draco-"

"Drop it, Pansy." He had said those same words to Potter. "I'm going to bed." Draco dragged his feet up the down the stairs to the his dormitory and climbed into bed. He was too emotionally exhausted to remove his robes, so he just yanked the curtains closed and mumbled a silencing charm.

And Draco  _cried_.

He cried and cried and cried.

He kept on sniffling and sobbing into his pillow, even when he heard the others come in and get ready for bed. Draco just kept going. The silencing charm wouldn't have let them hear anything anyways. He was crying so hard that he begun hiccuping and struggling to breathe.

Draco ended up crying himself to sleep.

* * *

He was so, so tired the next morning. Bags hung heavy under his slightly duller eyes and he couldn't even muster the strength to fix his hair to ultimate perfection like normal. He was given looks constantly by his friends as they all readied themselves for the day of classes ahead.

"Draco?"

"Yeah Theo?" Gosh, even his voice sounded horrible. Instead of it's smooth high note, not yet cracked by puberty, it was raspy and almost too quiet to hear.

"Maybe you should stay here and rest. You don't look so good. We can cover for you in lessons and pick up something from Madame Pomfrey..."

"I'm fine." Draco fixed his slightly wrinkled robes and shot anyone who so much as looked at him with pity an icy glare that could freeze a dragon in place. The others at least backed off. For now. Draco lazily patted down his hair, not at all like his normal, neat style.

"Are we going or not?"

People stared at him and Draco just glared at them. He knew he was an utter mess, but at the moment he just couldn't be perfect like he was supposed to be. So people continued staring at him with his slightly messy hair and crumpled robes. Pansy threatened a group of whispering girls from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw when they so much as mentioned his name.

Draco already hated today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a short chapter, but I wanted to post something to hold you guys over until the next chapter.


End file.
